


the ghost of your past & mine

by Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: arrell has a uncannily good morning.





	the ghost of your past & mine

**Author's Note:**

> apparently the combo of word doc on the desktop always open+twitter nonsense is a potent one.  
> anyway this is some sad arrell bullshit because work is boring and u meanies made me CARE about ARRELL!!!! 
> 
> title from jukebox the ghost's "don't let me fall behind"

Alyosha woke him with a kiss on his temple and Arrell smiled without thinking, even before his eyes were open.

“Hello,” he said, voice worn with sleep, and the morning light touched Alyosha's face, caught the planes of his cheeks as he smiled back at Arrell.

“Good morning,” he said, and brushed a hand through Arrell's hair. He took a moment, just smiling at Arrell. “Do you have anything urgent to do today?”

Arrell felt light in a way he hadn't in a long time.

“I don't believe I do,” he said. “Just study.”

“And I have proven time and again that study can wait,” Alyosha said, rolling on top of him.

“That you have,” Arrell said, and leaned up to kiss him. Alyosha had such soft lips. Arrell smiled into his mouth.

“What is it?”

“We haven't had time like this in a while,” Arrell said.

“But we're together now,” Alyosha said. Arrell looked up at him and ran his hand through that pretty pale hair.

“We are,” he said, and wondered why his throat felt so tight.

Alyosha kissed him again, then moved onto his neck.

“I'm glad to see you so happy, my love.”

Arrell stilled. Something in his heart twisted, and he scrambled out from under Alyosha to a sitting position.

“Tutor?”

Arrell looked at him, heart hammering, and said, “Oh, oh gods. You're not him; this is wrong, you're _not him.”_

 

(Once, Alyosha got very, very sick, and Arrell called a doctor but it was taking _too long_ and his fever was so high Alyosha couldn't see Arrell, or anything else, just stared forward with glazed eyes or tossed in a fitful sleep.

Arrell held his hand and waited and said, “Please, love, please hold on for me.”

And Alyosha moaned and thrashed and Arrell held him down and said, a little hysterical, “Please, please, love, go to sleep.”

He said it twice and no more.

The fever broke the next day and Arrell was so relieved he wept.

By the time Alyosha was awake and coherent, Arrell had pulled himself together. He called Alyosha nothing at all as he kissed his forehead and smoothed the hair out of his face.

 

Alyosha never called him 'love' even once.)

 

Alyosha smiled at him, placid.

“I can't call my love my love?” he said, light, and pulled Arrell back to him.

Alyosha kissed him, deep and rough, and it was wrong, wrong, this was the way Arrell kissed when he wanted to distract. Alyosha kissed slow at first, lips lingering; he drew Arrell in gently and with devastating precision.

Arrell pulled back.

“If-if you're not him then,” he said. He could feel himself start shaking. Alyosha started brushing back his hair, making little soothing noises, but Arrell shook his head over and over.

“I can't remember,” he said. “I can't remember if I was able to save you before I left.”

He could feel tears welling up. What if he hadn't kept his promise? Arrell gasped for breath-what if he was dying the worst death Arrell could imagine, alone, what if Arrell had abandoned him? What if Alyosha was still in Hieron, burning in the Heat, lost in the Dark, alone, alone, waiting for him? Arrell writhed and sobbed but couldn't seem to get free of Alyosha's hold.

“What do you mean, love?” Alyosha said. “I'm right-”

“ _You're not listening to me!_ ” Arrell yelled, and pushed at Alyosha.

Alyosha smiled and said, “Now you know how it feels.”

Arrell stopped struggling and looked up at him. Reached a shaking hand out, almost touching his cheek.

“Aly-Alyosha,” he said, more tears leaking out. “I just wanted-I only wanted you to be safe.”

But suddenly Alyosha's arms weren't around him anymore, and Alyosha was walking away, so graceful he almost appeared to be floating. Arrell called for him, reached for him, but then in one instant he was gone. Arrell pulled his hands into his lap and twisted them together.

“Do you still mean to save me, too?” Samot asked.

Arrell whipped around and the Boy-King Matured smiled down at him. He looked tired. It almost made him look like-

“I do,” Arrell said, harsh, grasping for his composure.

Samot hummed.

“I've tried to save someone unwilling to be saved,” he said. “You're trying for two. I suppose for all of our sakes I wish you better luck than mine.”

 

And then Arrell was alone, and where Samot stood was the Heat and the Dark, and it came lapping at his feet and he burned and collapsed and fell into himself until there was nothing at all, bones and sinew eaten up and gone.

 

* * *

 

Arrell woke gasping. He laid on his back and looked at the ceiling until his pulse quieted, and then he slowly turned to the side. An empty bed. He pressed a hand to his heart. An empty bed meant he was still in Hieron, that he still had time.

A knock on the door. A messenger. An urgent message from Hadrian, Sword of Samothes.

 

Arrell hoped dearly that it was not a request to retrieve his son. He had no room to bear another man's regrets.

 

**Author's Note:**

> alyosha never said the word love because he was fairly sure he wouldn't get the response he hoped for. 
> 
> find me on twitter @erintherockerin


End file.
